


The dust is whirling with the dust

by kilamandlou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Oscar Wilde - Freeform, based on 'The Harlot's House', its 12:25 AM and i have no idea what im doing, sorry but this is like really tragic plus overly dramatic?, too many 'alas'es but i swear i wasnt exaggeraing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:46:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6222406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kilamandlou/pseuds/kilamandlou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love passed into the house of lust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The dust is whirling with the dust

"The night is young and fair, let us breathe the stars and devour the constellations!"

Louis watched Harry throw his head back as he bellowed his hearts desire to the pallid moon. Endeared he was of his ethereal beauty, endeared he was truly and always.

And thus they did indeed; guided by the erratic beating of young hearts and star filled skies - they marched on. The cold breeze lapped at their fragile skin, as if feeding off their warmth, yet they continued to tread down the gloomy paths that meandered through the city.

They saw the empty market place and danced along the river Thames. The nightingale sang sweet and low for two lovers with an eternal love. Exquisite was the night and exquisite was it's song. For when in love, all is beautiful.

In Louis' impassioned eyes was blazing affection, not for the enchanting night nor for the nightingale's tune, but for Harry only. Affection for his gleaming eyes and glowing face, his copper curls and crimson lips, affection for his lovely boy that met no ends. 

"If you'd just see! Silhouettes dance far below! And are those violins I here?"

Louis smiled at Harry's bemused expression and yes indeed he did hear the sweet song of the violins and he did see the graceful dance of silhouettes, but alas! Were it not the Harlot's house? The old brick building with shimmering lights and neon signs - the house of lust. 

And with the music echoed the shrill laughter and whispered intimacies of hollow souls and eager bodies. The shadows danced on through the night as the two lovers watched side by side. Hand in hand the darkness twirled, head reasted upon shoulder. Pressing closer all the while, treading on impatient, fleeting feet. 

But also, a sedated figure sat on the steps, smoking away his sanity. He once looked up at both lovers and pity shone bright in his eyes for Louis it seemed. Louis who was admiring Harry who admired the dancing souls through the blinds. And it was something Louis did not understand just yet.

"The dead are dancing with the dead, the dust is whirling with the dust."

Louis commented with a gentle quirk of his lips. He looked up at the red, brick house and then his gaze returned to his love. But alas! His love had left his side and was venturing up the solid steps. In he went to chase the tune of violins and in he went to dance the dance of marionettes.

Love passed into the house of lust.

Right then the violins ceased to play and stumbled the shadows from their grace. The tune went false and the dancers wearied of their waltz. Everything came crashing down. A fire blazed in the Harlot's house. And burned the singing violins. And burned the dancing silhouettes. And burned the boy with curly hair.

Louis watched the doom of his beloved, yet seemed indifferent for he'd lost his love. And as the stars seemed to burn quite brighter and the nightingale's sweet song got frantic, the house burned down to dust. Yet he felt no pain, for the ashes that lay upfront were not his Harry but merely the body of a boy he had never known.

And so he sat on the steps with the shaded man, who handed him all he needed to never feel again. Now, Louis understood.

Slowly the stars faded away and dawn in its cloak of grey, crept into the dark abyss and shy she were but alas! Her trembling feet tiptoed over the grotesque remains of a once lively place.

**Author's Note:**

> Its 2AM now and well I wrote this while I wasn't quite aware of my plans or thoughts. Im afraid i only write when in the late hour i am deprived of my sanity, but let me know ofcourse what says you of this tragic little piece I willed to share?


End file.
